


You, Severus

by JacksWild



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bottom Harry, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Post DH, Slow Build, after book 7, dream erotica, snarry, top snape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3145439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacksWild/pseuds/JacksWild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of living life, building routines, growing dreams, learning to live; our boys meet. Happen stance? Maybe. Serendipity? Yes. Fortuitous? Who knows? </p><p>(Tags will be updated throughout the fic. This is slow build sexually, as I wanted to work on the boys first.)</p><p>JUST AN UPDATE:: AS OF JULY 5TH, THIS IS ON TEMPORARY HIATUS. I LOVE THIS STORY TOO MUCH TO NOT GIVE IT MY ALL. BUT I HAVE TO TAKE A MINI BREAK FROM IT, SO THAT I CAN CONTINUE TO GIVE IT THE BEST WRITING I CAN. I AM CURRENTLY WORKING, GOING TO SCHOOL, BUYING A HOUSE, MOVING ACROSS THE COUNTRY AND TRYING TO BREAK THROUGH A WRITING BLOCK. PLEASE BEAR WITH ME!! I LOVE THIS STORY!!! IT WILL BE SO AMAZING. AND I HOPE TO BE RETURNING TO IT, SOMETIME IN AUGUST!!! DON'T HATE ME!!! PLEASE!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"You've no concept, no idea, the amount of pure, unadulterated fury I keep at bay on a regular basis in regards to your lack of wisdom in running to the rescue without thinking things through. Now, all of that having been said, Potter." Snape stopped took stock of his body. 

His heart pumping, the blood flowing throughout the course of his body, his hair his skin, his fingers and nails, and toes, even his knees that had been giving him trouble for neigh on 14 years, all were gloriously and completely healed. 

So he continued, despite his internal mental battle, "You have saved me. With no regard toward my feelings on the matter, no regard towards my desires or wishes, you saved me. You've healed me more than the snakes bite, more than the venom in my veins, more than the wounds on my skin. You've healed long held firm prejudices that I had been holding on to for far longer than one would care to admit. You've healed wounds both physical and emotional that were older than you, and for that, and that alone, I wish you all the best. I know that life would have been more difficult if you had decided to stay within the magical community. But the fact that you did, and for long enough to not only see me to and through the trial in my name, but to also do the same for my godson, whilst proving our worth for honors, and attacking the media head on, was not and will never be lost on me." Snape sighed, and took stock of the gentleman, the neat and tidy 22 year old that was standing in front of him, back straight, three piece muggle suit, fitting him better than he'd seen the young wizard wear here-to-fore.

"So if you wish to escape, and that is for lack of a better word; then I will not be the judge of your choices. But, Potter..." he sighed once again and looked deeply into the Chosen One's, verdant eyes, "Even though I will not judge your choices, I will say this. I will miss you, and miss the man that you are, and have yet to be." Snape brought his hand up to the shoulder of the man across from him, and placed it ever so gently on the fabric, as though his touch alone would put the younger wizard aflame. 

"Be blessed, Harry Potter. In all your days, in all your endeavors, in all your life." Severus Snape stepped back, took his arm from the fabric of the classically black suit, crossed it over his torso, and bowed slightly in front of the Saviour of the Wizarding World. 

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Harry woke up; a cold sweat that glistened on his face, the only visible reminder that he had just been having a nightmare again. But the echoes of that horrible laugh, the stench of acrid death laying stale in the air, the visible smoke settling around him, the ghosts of all those that had died looking at him with mixed emotions of hate and pride; those were all the non-visible, residual effects that stayed with him. Every time. 

He swung his body out of bed, taking no concern with looking at the clock, or paying mind to the clothing and books littering the floor, instead he stepped on them, over them, through them, as he walked to his bathroom. He didn’t look into the mirror, knowing full well what his face looked like. He didn’t take stock of his body, knowing after all this time that his toes would be there, both his feet, his knees, chest, hands, arms and head would all be there. He didn’t look at anything, didn’t even spare a thought to turn on the light. No, he just stepped over to the toilet and pissed. Quietly, he just stood there, barely touching himself, just enough to make sure he didn’t piss all over the place. And let his mind wander, the what ifs, the if onlys, those thoughts that he only allowed himself to think, in the dark, after the dreams, before the dawn when the new day and new light brought the inevitable weight of responsibility. 

He missed being able to talk to Dumbledore about all of this, though in the most recent years, he had come to realize that maybe it hadn’t been Dumbledore that he had spoken too as much as Snape. That old, bat shit potions master, who some how had known Harry, sometimes, he thought, more than he had known himself. And he allowed that niggling angst unfurl for just a moment in his heart. That regret of not saying things, never going back, never giving in; but he collected himself, flushing the toilet and sighed. He was alone, that was what he wanted, no matter what his treacherous mind thought in those dark hours of the twilight.

He rolled his shoulders, relishing the sting from the prior days activities, and looked over at the clock.

‘4:13 a.m.’

He wasn’t going to be getting much more sleep. Might as well make use of the two more hours before work and get some exercise in. His hand aimlessly swinging back and forth, silent spells working through his brain, his gym clothes from the day before, finding themselves clean, warmed, and on his body in less time than it took to walk from the bathroom to the bedroom door.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

He relished the working out. The pain, felt in the groan of his muscles, and the grunts that inevitably spilt from his lips. He liked the mindless routine of working his body, taking time to work every muscle, feel every spasm, mark every heartbeat and recognize the flow of blood through his veins. He had decided to run this morning, and had apparated to the coast of Greenland, to the town of Thule, and just ran. He welcomed the sting of the cold, the insistent burn of the ice in the air as it hit his still warm skin. He breathed in the humid freezing air and relished the burn in his lungs. The road he always ran was a winding road, dirt and grass mostly, just along the coastline, the trees (barren as they were wont to be in the colder months) on one side, and Baffin Bay on the other. Clear, blue water, so beautiful that he often wondered if he could stand on it. And walk clear to the edge of the Earth and fall off. 

He smiled at that, taking note of the snarky Snape in his mind that would have without doubt made fun of such frivolous thoughts, and continued to run. He didn’t set times, didn’t think about destinations. He just would run until he was tired and then he would run a bit more, and at some point when he felt that he was going to burn out he would almost always find himself in his shower back in London, the steam working out the kinks that he had obtained. His only companion on these trips, often only being the birds that would follow him, feeling the flow of his magic as it would course off of his body. 

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Snape never allowed himself a moment’s respite. He never went out of his way to do anything more or less than what he intended to do, and more so, he never thought about this fact. It was out of sheer will that he was where he was today, living in a small but very comfortable brick row house in the higher-class area of Wizarding London. It was out of sheer will that he was a Potions Master and the first to ever cross over into the Muggle world, working (secretly, yes) but working none-the-less, with the chemistry field at a company called, “Pfizer” in a small town off the coast of Connecticut in the States. 

He didn’t dwell on the long nights of Apparating back to London, and then realizing that yet again he had forgotten to get food to eat, and had to transfigure something small so that he wouldn’t go hungry for another night, and he most assuredly didn’t think about all the mornings when he woke up and felt around on the bed for another body, only to realize with the dawning of light in the windows, that the person that he had thought would be there, had only been a man in the dreams.

Sometimes he let himself think about that man, where he would be, what he would look like, the way his voice would lilt a bit over certain words, or the sounds that he would make when just going about his day. And other times, he would just wonder if that man was still out there, or had cruel fate taken him from this Earth, without any knowledge for Snape and the others that had cared and he imagined, always would. 

This morning hadn’t been any different, the only marked change being that he had finally remembered the morning prior to get eggs and cheese and a bit of beans so that he was able to make something to eat. He had also found himself awake at the most ungodly of hours this morning, a small shutter running over his spine at the nightmare that had caused his early morning ablutions. But he didn’t dwell on it, wouldn’t do to think on something so much, as he had no one to talk too, and the only person who would, as he would imagine, understand, hadn’t been seen or heard from in almost 5 years. 

He grunted into his morning tea as his clothing found their way on his skin, taking pride as always in his silent charms that helped him even when his mind was a thousand different places. He took stock of his day and smiled when he realized that for the next four days he was scheduled to stay within London, two at work in Diagon Alley and two that were completely free. 

His mind on the potion that he wanted to work on in a few days time, he didn’t notice the slightly shorter man that walked past him on the street in Diagon Alley. Didn’t give any thought to the piercing green eyes that had looked up for a fraction of a second, and had stared holes through his head. He hadn’t noticed the man stop, as he had walked by and follow his movements into his building. He didn’t notice; and for that didn’t give any thought to just how rusty his spy training had gotten. For had he noticed, he would have stopped, he would have stared, he maybe even would have said something, but instead the man on the street, to the rest of the world walking by, took a moment to collect himself and look sad. Walking away head cast downward, his heart on his sleeve, all but bleeding.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of our boys. Big things happening for each of them separately.

“Wouldn’t you know that here I am, walking down the street and I see you? — No…” Harry scoffed at his face in the mirror. 

He had damn near walked a hole in the floor of his bathroom, through his room, and into the patio off the bedroom. In the last three days, he had cleaned the entirety of the house, from top to bottom. He’d cleaned cobwebs, swept floors, cleaned the floo, dusted furniture, completed all laundry, fluffed all the bedding, cleaned all the towels and sheets and bedding, and all while being called out to help a sinking vessel off the coast in the Tiberius Sea. 

Harry had been shocked to see Snape in the street. It had been almost 5 years to the date of having seen the man, on the side of the street outside of the ministry, his hand across his stomach and in a bow, before Apperating away. It had taken Harry almost 2 years, to stop the mindless desire to search for his ex-potions professor, and had taken him that much longer to stop regretting his lack of an ability to create a relationship with said man. 

Harry leaned against the bannister, and looked out at the courtyard, quietly enjoying the peace that it always brought him. The first half year that he had lived here, he had taken the time to renovate the house, adding rooms, updating bathrooms and the kitchen, cleaning out the fireplaces and turning the one in the kitchen into a floo. He had also taken the time to expand, magically, the courtyard, so that it had pockets of space that only he could go in to. He knew it for the escape it was, but it was warded none-the-less, and it was his space. Yet here he was, in one of the most shocking moments of his recent years, and he neither wanted to escape to the vast pockets of fields of lavender, nor did he want to confront the man that had haunted his dreams for the last 5 years. 

He sighed, his body finally giving into the exhaustion that was over taking him. He had been on that sinking ship for almost 14 hours, crafting magic metals and woods to stem the flow and repair the damage. It had been a trial, and the muggles and wizards on the ship had been unable to suitably help. (The muggles being well, muggles.) And the wizards, not being strong enough to help, he had to steer the ship away from the reckless waves, and had to move the water from the cabins before he could stop for a moment to catch his breath. It had been eventful, and when he had completed his job, he had let the wizards of the boat Obliviate the minds of the muggles, and then he had wandlessly obliviated himself of the memories of the wizards. To them, they had all worked together and seamlessly repaired the ship. It was rewarding in it’s own way, but now, well now he was drained—his magic having been brought down by almost a full quarter, and he needed to sleep it back into rights. 

He slipped off his willies, and magically took off the jeans and shirt that he was wearing, taking his time to peel away his pants before stepping back completely within the bedroom and walking over to the bathroom to take a nice, relaxing shower. He didn’t think about it, hadn’t really given it much exploration, and yet he found his cock in his hand, and Snapes name on his lips, and the evidence seeping down the drain. 

His last thoughts before he passed out in his bed, was just how long it had been since he had masturbated. But the thought that caused him to drift off with a half smile on his face, was that it might have been more than two years since he had masturbated, but it hadn’t been the first time with Snapes name on his lips and the professors face on his mind. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus toyed around with the measuring device for his potion, he had added the chamomile leaf about thirty seconds ago and was playing around with when he thought he should start stirring the potion. His excitement for his creation evident only to him, he kept a masterful scowl upon his lips and his brow was furrowed in a thought-like fashion. He didn’t often deign to work on new potions, not for the lack of desire, but from sheer lack of time, and now that he had the time, well it wouldn’t do to not work on something, finally.

He stirred counter clockwise for 6 turns, then stopped for a full three seconds and then reversed and stirred clockwise for 12 turns. At the end he added the mug wart and holly oak. With a flick of his wrist, the fire under the cauldron dampened marginally and he left it to simmer. If this worked he would have a seamless sleep potion, much better than dreamless sleep, and far better than the basic sleep draughts. 

He cracked his neck and maneuvered his muscles in his shoulders feeling the tension leak out. He needed a shower, and food, and possibly a nap, but most assuredly tea. He went to start the tea water to boil when the knock sounded throughout the house, his wards shivering up his spine instant recognition giving his heart a relief. 

“Malfoy, enter.” He drawled, and the door unlocked and let in the young man. 

“Severus.” Draco smiled, his hand reached out, a bag in his other hand. 

“Draco. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Severus drawled. His hand reaching out and grasping the younger mans smaller and smoother hand. 

“Yes, well…” he stopped and took his hand back, looking about the living area with surprising ease and familiarity. “First off, I’ve brought you some wine from Greece. My trip went beautifully, and I figured I would share in the glory of their harvest.” 

Severus took the sack from the younger man, and pulled out two bottles of Assrytiko and Mandelaria. “Well I do appreciate a beautiful wine. And with a white and a red of such caliber, I cannot wait to partake of their fruits.” He turned and walked to the kitchen, neither telling Draco to follow, nor telling him to stay. 

“But what has truly brought you here, Draco? I know you may think me listless in my life, but I am currently very busy.” 

“Yes, yes… right. Well—“ The young blonde stopped at the door of the kitchen, noticeably keeping his distance from his godfather. To Severus however, the most remarkable thing was watching the young Malfoy, breathe and think through what he was about to say, rather then just throwing about words. “Right, as you know, I’ve been engaged with Ginnevra Weasley for a little over a year now.” He paused in the midst of his talking to breathe once more and took a look into Severus’ eyes. “As such, there are two things with which I would like, no, need to discuss with you.” He walked forward and sat down at the table, patiently waiting for Severus to do the same. 

“Yes, alright. Please stop dragging this out. I was not being facetious when I told you I was busy.” But he sat down at the hard, dark, oak table across from Draco.

“Right. The first order of business is that you’ve never RSVP’d to the wedding, and with the wedding being in just over a month away, I am coming here to ask your intentions on the matter.” He leaned back into his chair, but was looking at his hands, his fingers playing with the nails of his thumbs. Pointedly not looking at his godfather.

“I had no intention of going.” Severus started, and then immediately regretted saying such a thing. The burden of being the only father figure to the child you watched grow up. “But only as I was originally scheduled to be in India working with a potions lab there…” he stopped, taking in a moment to dissect whether he felt upset at the lie, and then decided he didn’t. “However when that was cancelled three weeks ago, I thought of your wedding, but was unsure as to if it would be too late to ask for my attendance to be accepted.” 

“Yes, Severus. Of course you are welcome.” Draco said, his whole demeanor changing instantly. Yet still he remained quiet after this. 

“I do believe you said you had two points of business to discuss.”

“Yes, well. Ginnevra and I have been living together against both of our parents’ wishes for almost two years now. And we’ve only just found out that her family is even coming to the wedding, and that mine is as well. The issue is, well…” he paused, and to Severus it looked like he was using a unspoken spell for strength of will, “Gin is pregnant!” Draco exclaimed. He looked up, and to Severus it was as if the man in front of him was both a young child and the man that he had grown into. The fear and love both living breathing emotions in the boys’ eyes. 

“Congratulations are in order, I would presume?” Severus said, unable to keep the smallest of grins from his face. 

“Yes, yes! We are so excited.”

“But your question would be?”

“Well, she and I have both talked at length about who we want to be the god parents of our baby. And with both of our families either certifiable, mine, or in her case not accepting of our love, we decided on you. If you would be so willing.” Draco paused momentarily and barreled on. “I know that you aren’t the type to be beholden to family matters and the such, but you’ve always been an upstanding man, one with whom I am proud to call my god father, as well as one who helped take down Voldemort. On top of that, it is no secret at what lengths you went to, to protect both me and Potter through-out our childhoods and we both believe that you would be the perfect god parent for our child.”

It took every ounce of will power to hold back his shock from showing on his face. It wouldn’t do to be so emotional, no matter who was the person to which would see the emotion. He took stock of how he felt on the situation, after all, another god child just meant another little idiot running around with his rights upon their back; but he couldn’t deny the pleasure that unfurled at the fact that another little idiot would be his to say his god child. Long since had Severus given up the dreams of young men across the world, for home and family. And though he had loathed teaching at Hogwarts, it had been for the sheer idiocy of the student body as a whole, not for the children themselves. He bided his time, taking sordid pleasure in Draco’s misgivings, and imagining the supposed mental lashings that were happening in the blond head of his. But knew that the answer would be a resounding yes. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Draco.” He started; taking complete satisfaction in the crumpled look that etched itself on Malfoys’ face. “But I would be most honored to be the god father of your child.” He said, and gasped in shock as Draco looked up and launched his rather muscled frame across the table and hugged Severus. “Your manners, Draco Malfoy!” He said, but still brought his hands up and touched the younger mans shoulders. 

“Now, I would like to get back to my potion, before this nattering destroys the one fruitful day I’ve had in almost a year.” 

“Yes, of course.” Draco stood back up and straightened out his suit. “One more thing, Sir.” He said, and took out an envelope. “Don’t read it now, but make sure to do so by the wedding. Also the colors for the wedding are Silver and Gold.” And with that, he took his leave and left Severus to look with curiosity at the envelope that was lying on his table. But as he reached for it, the timer on the potion buzzed throughout the house and he left it on the table. He made a mental note to look at it later, and left the puzzling of Draco’s attitude towards it, for then as well.

*.*What he wouldn’t admit too, not for some time to come, was that he put off opening the letter that first day, and then couldn’t find it for almost a month. He never could remember where he placed it, or it wasn’t where he knew he had placed it, often times leaving him to feel a little upturned or spun around. Leaving a note of relief and dissatisfaction on his tongue every time he went for it.*.*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some adjusting, some good news, and some powerful magic.

Harry had reached the conclusion that the invite for the wedding had been out of respect and not actually out of the desire to see him there. In fact, he was sure that it was more that Malfoy was his attorney, than for anything other reason. For that he was completely all right with his lack of response to the invitation that had started to gather dust on his foyer table. Which was why, he was in shock at the howler that had come barreling through the floo at 4 am, one brisk Wednesday morning, alerting him to the knowledge that he would have a visitor in less than 2 hours and to make himself and his home presentable.

Never one to ignore the high-strung attributes of either a Weasley or a Malfoy, he did just that. Taking his time to make sure that his home was both presentable and welcoming, but also making sure that it was singularly lonely enough to push the two love birds out of his home just as soon as their business was seen too. 

It didn’t cause him alarm when exactly 2 hours later, a knock sounded at his door. It did however confuse him that the floo had been ignored for the means of Apparation. Either way however he answered and was shocked to find Gin and Malfoy smiling and waiting for him.

“Ginny!” He smiled, leaning forward and hugging her, more than a little surprised at the fervor of her hug. “Draco.” He said, putting a hand out and accepting the shake and all its pomp and formality. “Come in, come in; I’ve just started the tea, so it should be ready soon.” He led them into the house, liking that the walls were happily clean with their soft buttery yellow tones, and the floors shone with wax on the dark mahogany wood. “Sit, sit.” He said, and sat in the head chair directly by the fire, while the couple sat on the plush couch. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a morning visit?” 

“Harry, I know it’s early.” Ginny started, and looked over at Draco, the soft clamping of his heart for the closeness they shared, but not for lost love. 

“Harry, we’ve come about your lack of a response to our invite for the wedding.” Ginny fidgeted in her spot, but Draco's hands kept her reasonably still in spite of her nerves. 

“Right, well…” He said and then stopped, not really knowing the depths of the waters that he was wading into. “Look, I know that the invite was a formality. We were friends in school Gin, and Draco you are my attorney, but we’ve not been actually in each others lives for years now.”

“You dolt.” Draco said, the scowl on his face, reminding Harry vaguely of Snape's when something incredibly stupid had been said in his presence. “We want you at our wedding because you are a part of the group, as much as it pains me to say that.” Draco huffed and took time to smooth his hair back a bit from the front of his head, and then pinned Harry with a glare. “Look, you are the reason that you haven’t been seen nor heard from, greatly in the past 6 years. But that doesn’t mean that people don’t wish for your presence when happy occasions occur, and honestly it is simply bad manners to not respond at all.” He stopped himself and took a breath, to the astonishment of Harry who couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen Malfoy the youngest compose himself. 

“Harry, you know that we care about you.” Gin stopped and smiled exasperatedly at her fiancé, “we all care about you. And it simply isn’t fair to you or to the rest of our group that you’ve decided upon the life of the recluse simply because you’ve a fear of the lime-light.” She put up her hand, effectively stopping the rant that was about to spurt from his mouth. “You’ve been given an invitation, and we expect to see you there. That is simply the beginning and end of that conversation, do you understand?” She asked, calmly waiting for a response, while her eyes bored holes into Harrys’. 

“Yes, yes, fine.” He said, smiling in spite of himself, he didn’t want to go, true; but he did love his friends, and he hadn’t seen the lot of them in almost 2 years. 

“Good, now on to another sort of business.” Draco said, producing a small shrunken sized packet of papers from his suit pocket and enlarging them. “We are aware that you are a reclusive man, we’ve come to not only accept that on some level, but to understand it as well.” Draco took a moment to look down at Ginny who looked up and nodded, her face beaming with pride and love. 

“However, there is some decidedly happy news that we are going to share with you, and hope that you take our request with truth and respect.” 

“Harry, we are pregnant!!” Ginny said, tears spilling over her eyes, prettily falling down her cheeks. 

For a moment the world stopped, his heart, his breath, even the clock on the mantel seemed to hold its tick waiting patiently to give its next tock; Ginny his childhood love, his adolescent friend, was pregnant with Draco Malfoy’s child. He had accepted long ago that they were together, had accepted that they even probably loved one another when the invites went out about their wedding, but to see the pure love for one another on their faces, when Ginny had said the news; well Harry found himself longing for a place that he wouldn’t ever have, and a life he knew he didn’t want. 

Time took a second and his heart sped up and tears rushed down his face, this was what they had fought for, this, the makings of families, the growing of a next generation; this was what defeating Voldemort had ultimately been about. Making a future for all of them. 

“You going to say anything, Potter?” Draco asked, a small tinge of concern lacing his smile. 

“Yes! I’m just- I’m overcome! Congratulations!” He flung himself from his chair and took Ginny by the arms and hauled her up, hugging her and twirling her around. Feeling the magic well up inside of him, like a spring breaking forth form a long cold drought, he opened his eyes, and stood in wonder. The whole of the room was stars, constellations, galaxies, as if space had poured its heart into the room, and surrounded the three of them. He let Ginny go and looked at them both, as they looked around the room. He tried valiantly to hide how much magic and power was within him, but sometimes, (really always) he was aware that his power was directly linked to his emotions, and the stronger the emotion to more real the impact of his magic on the world around him. He watched them as they stood with each other and danced in awe, giggling and laughing at the stars as they tinkled and danced around them, the pure joy on their face, worth the loss of control. 

“Look at this one,” he said, grabbing their attention from the beauty of the stars around them. “This one right here, is new, so new that it hasn’t even had its first explosion of debris, not quite a star, but soon.” He put his hands around it, and lifted it towards them, the small nebula sparkling with red and green, with off shoots of gold and silvery lights and gases surrounding it. “We shall imprint the name of your first born on this nebula.” He reached one hand out and touched Ginny stomach, keeping a hand on his tiny space structure. He felt with his heart, and with his magic, and smiled. “Your little boy will be healthy and strong, he will carry the responsibilities of both of your distinguished names and he will have a soft heart.” He opened his eyes and was shocked to his core to see tears in the eyes of Draco, for another moment the breath stolen from him was intense. 

“How do you know?” He asked, looking scared and afraid to move. 

“Sometimes, Draco, it isn’t in the how, but instead in the why.” He smiled and took the nebula and placed it softly to the outer part of Ginny’s belly, taking his other hand and reaching out for Draco’s, which gave his hand, surprisingly willingly. Together with both of their hands holding the nebula, he put it inside of her watching as the shinning light exploded with a shower of power and magic and then dulled to a soft protective glow centered in her stomach. “He will be protected always, and will always find his way home, from his connection with the stars.” 

He took a step back, and composed himself. Pulling in the magic that was around them all, and letting it recede into his core, hoping that it wasn’t as climactic as it felt, knowing that it still was. 

“You’ve more power than Merlin.” Draco said, earning a sigh from Harry. 

“Harry, why would you hide this?” Ginny asked, her face wet with tears, her heart all but pumping prettily on her sleeve. 

“Because it is for me to figure out, and I need to know the world that I helped to save, wont fear me for my magic.” He took both his hands and rubbed them through his unruly hair. “The Wizarding world has always had a knack for jumping to conclusions and fear first, and asking questions long after, and I will not be responsible for the next Wizarding war.” He sighed and looked at them both in the eyes, hoping they could see what he was saying, for the truth of it. 

“Sad that you are right.” Draco said, putting his hand out in respect. “Your secret is safe with us.” Harry put both his hands out, taking one from Draco and another from Ginny.

“ _tuitionem nostri occulta_ ” He said, letting them feel the flow of white magic cover their hands. “Protect our hidden secrets.” And nodded at them both when they nodded at him. 

“Alright, well, I’ve got a bit of things that need to be done and rearranged if I am to be at a weekend long celebration for the two of you.” He said, pulling his hands away and making to the entrance of the room. 

“Harry, we’ve one more thing to discuss.” Ginny said, her voice small but insistent. 

“Oh, of course, what would that be?” He asked, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. 

“We came here not only to share the news, but also to ask you a question.” Draco started, taking the hand of his beloved. “We want you to be the godfather to our child.” He said, looking ever more like a man, and to Harry sounding more like a friend than he ever had before. 

To Harry’s credit he didn’t explode with another bout of magic. He didn’t crumple to the floor in a heap. He didn’t start crying. To Harry’s credit, he held all of the emotion in, and just allowed the smile to play at his lips. He’d always wanted a big family. One that he could love, and cherish and take care of, and he hadn’t really ever gotten the opportunity to have that. He lavished Teddy with love and care, whisking him off to places, and always making sure that he was there for bad nights and long talks, but he always had a place in his heart for more. So, to Harry’s credit he didn’t weep, but it was a close thing. 

“A thousand yeses’.” He said, and walked over, this time, hugging Draco first. It being a first for them both, and not surprisingly, awkward, it didn’t last long, but the sentiment was there, and they both had been struck with the change in the dynamic of their relationship from then on. 

“Oh really, Harry!? No protests about needing space?” Ginny giggled at her accidental pun. “You’ll really be his godfather?” She took his hands and kissed them both. “You always were a part of our family, now it’s just more so.” 

“Right, right…” Draco said, composing himself and letting his inner attorney out. “These are the forms that we will need you to sign, and just hand them to us at the ceremony.” He stopped and took out a yellowed envelope from his breast pocket. “This however is simply for you, with the only request that you read it before the wedding.” He placed the envelope on top of the stack of papers and put his hand out for one last handshake before he stepped towards the door. 

“I love you, Harry.” Ginny said, kissing him once on the cheek and then smiling watery up at him. 

“You too, Gin, always.” Harry said, taking her hand and leading her over to his front door. “I will see you in one months time.” He smiled and watched them as they walked down his steps. 

“Oh, and Harry, the colors are gold and silver. Please, try to dress accordingly.” Draco said, and scowled at the laugh that this garnered from Harry. “Yes, Princess.” He yelled out and shut the door, not waiting for Draco’s response.

 

He went back in, taking time to relax and allow his magic to sweep in and out of his body, the emotional morning having taken it’s toll on his magical reflexes. And then took the time to set up his tea, and prepare a morning scone. He finally found himself settled back down in his sitting room, and the yellowed envelope, beckoning him, sitting on the table directly in front. 

He had felt the magical signature the moment that Draco had pulled it from his pocket, recognized it for what it was, and had had to clamp down on the urge to rip it from the hands of the young wizard. He hadn’t been in the presence of that magic for almost 8 years, and he hadn’t realized just how much he had truly missed it. He reached forward, contemplating the strength of his desire to read the missive. Dumbledore had been dead for 8 years, but to Harry’s chagrin, it appeared the old wizard still held Harry captive in his love. 

He placed his hand on the envelope, and gasped with only half awe when the blasted thing disappeared right in his grasp. He took a moment to reflect and then out right laughed into the silence of the house. “You don’t want me to read it just yet, you crazy old bard?” Harry asked out loud, surprised that he could almost feel a glow of humor surround him. “Fine, but don’t expect me to go looking for the damned thing, you’ll have to give it to me when the time is ready.” He said, and leaned back into the chair. Taking in a deep breath, and finding tears welling up in his eyes. “How is it, after all these years, you still smell like Lemon Drops, even in spirit?” Harry asked, and let the tears fall, relishing the comfort of lemon candy and soft humor, that surrounded him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories and changes.

Chapter 4

Severus got up in a cold sweat, he hadn’t dreamed about that part of that night, in almost 6 years. His body shaking, his hands cramped up, his left leg sore; as if he had just experienced being saved again. His body once again reaping the pain from the experience. He took labored breaths, counting his heartbeats, counting his fingers, his toes, his seconds, reminding himself that he was very much alive, and very much safe. 

The dream was always the same, and it wasn’t expressly a bad dream either, no honestly it wasn’t. It was more the fact that his body felt the need to relive all the pain, all the worry, all the hunger; as if it craved the need to experience such horrors once in a while, but no, the dream itself wasn’t bad. 

_He lay in the shrieking shack, his mind slowly being eaten by the toxic venom that was coursing resolutely throughout his body. He took small pleasure in the knowledge that his blood boosters and his antivenins were slowing the progress down, but he knew that he was going to die. Really, he had long since accepted that this was his inevitable end. He took slow, measured breaths, willing his heart rate to settle down as much as he willed his body to stop throbbing with each new pain. He had known the moment that the wounds had started to close, closing in the venom, closing out any possible opportunity for saving._

He counted his blessings, small as they were that he had been able to transpose his memories for Potter, that he had been able to give him that small part of himself, so that he would know. So that there wouldn’t be any questions. A small, selfish, Slytherin part of him, also hoped that it would exonerate him in the post mortem, but he wouldn’t be there, so also it wouldn’t make a difference. He thought back on all that had happened, all that he had been a part of, all that would transpire this evening, and would happen in the future; and was shocked over much that his biggest regret would be that he wouldn’t be able to congratulate Potter. That he wouldn’t see the young whelp complete the task that had been placed at his feet from such a young age. If he thought about it now, and since he had the time, why not; then he could recognize that he had been far to hard on the child, more than the effort had really been needed. It wasn’t for lack of desire, the whelp really did bring out the worst in him, but he had allowed it, had fallen back on old grudges, had held firm to the taste of vengeance, and had savoured it’s sweet flavor when he knew that he had brought pain to the child’s life, pain that he himself had felt when he was but a lad. 

But now, in the final moments, minutes, hours, he could allow himself to think of the what ifs, the future that he wouldn’t be there to live, the changes in the world that he wouldn’t be able to appreciate, and the knowledge that at least he could know, he could go out in the end knowing, that Voldemort that Dark Evil Bastard, would be dead as well. 

He closed his eyes, making allowances that his body was shutting down, his pain in his left leg so severe that it wouldn’t shock him when it finally stopped hurting all together, indicating a level of blood loss so acute he wouldn’t be able to return from it. He closed his eyes, and tried to move his head, trying to dislodge the pain in his neck, but allowing that it would be fruitless, just accepted that he would die in discomfort. He closed his eyes, and took his time, living through his life, living through all of his moments, all of his regrets and all of his accomplishments; until he heard foot falls. 

He had breathed a sigh of hatred, knowing this for the sure sign that he had started losing his mind. No one would dare come for him, he had seen the anguish in Potters eyes, had known it for what it was, known it for the acceptance he himself had come to feel in the last several hours. Potter had known that he would die this night, and coming here most assuredly shouldn’t be on anyone’s mind. Killing off the Dark Lord, and celebrating should be, and though it had been hours, and it had felt like days, he knew that it had been too soon for such celebrations to occur. He kept his eyes closed, willing the assailant to go, willing his body to leave this world and go on to whatever was next, willing for himself to keep his mind for as long as possible so that he didn’t die a raving lunatic. 

“Professor…” came the whisper. A soft hardly audible, whisper that touched his ear and gave a jolt to his heart. He tried to say Potter, tried to let the child know that he was still alive, tried to warn the boy that he wanted to die, but instead was only able to grunt, able to put out the softest of noises, rather pathetic way to show strength, if that was what he was trying to show in the first place. Now that he thought of it, he didn’t know what he was trying to convey. 

“Professor, let me help you.” The soft pleading broke something inside of the man, brought a wealth of anguish to his body that he had here-to-fore been unable to feel. He didn’t want to die in front of this child that he had spent most of his life, living long enough to save. He didn’t want that to be a smear on the life of the Boy Who Lived.

“G….. go-o-oh,” he said, willing for it to be enough.

“No, Professor. I will not go.” The boy’s hands finally found there way to the body of the aggrieved man, and turned him on his back, softly, oh so gently laying his head on the floor, and straightening out his body so that it wasn’t so contorted. 

“I guess it’s my turn to repay some favors, I wasn’t aware I was in debt of.” Potter said, causing Severus to grimace in his mind. He didn’t want life debts, didn’t want to be saved, didn’t want to be fixed, and didn’t want to be able to have the change in their relationship that would dignify a change in a demeanor that he had so long harbored deeply within himself. “Trust me, Sir. You will make it through this evening alive, and I will make sure the world, knows what you’ve done for us all…. And for me.” 

 

Severus called into work, letting him know that he was going to be taking a few more days off than originally anticipated. His frustration so palpable through the phone that he had effectively broken the connection with his magic, while his partner was telling him to take as much time as he needed. Which was why he found himself at 10 in the morning with bourbon in one hand and a picture of Potter in the other. It wasn’t even a proper picture, no, it was a snap taken of the two of them the day the Wizengamot had cleared his name and given him the honor of Merlin First Class. They were on the street, just outside of the Ministry, and he was in the process of bowing to the boy; man really. But Severus wasn’t paying any attention to himself, no instead he was looking at the face of the young wizard that he had come to grudgingly know and respect in the previous two years. He had found in the place of the ungrateful brat, a respectful and powerful young man. And when he had been looking for hate he instead found gratitude. But that look on Potters face, just as Severus had released himself from his bow, and Apparated away, that was the look that he had missed, it was a look that had haunted him since the moment he had seen the picture on the front of the Prophet the very next day, a look that had caused him to search rather fruitlessly for half a year, before giving up and leaving the man alone. It was a look that could only be described as longing. It wasn’t a look that Severus truly understood, and he allowed that it could have been a longing to be done with the entirety of the situation and to be gone, but he had seen the briefest, barest, hint of sadness in that photo when he had apparated away and left Potter alone on the street. 

And so here he was, two week shy of 6 years later, drinking bourbon in the morning, and mourning the loss of a friendship he hadn’t known to even look for, or even think about.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry took his day to set right some miscellaneous tasks that needed to be completed before he took the weekend off to celebrate the union of two people very dear to him. He called upon Kreacher, who had been freed to retire two years prior but would allow himself to be of use when called upon by Master Harry or a member of the Black family. He set the elder elf to the task of cleaning, re-arranging and cooking, knowing full well that when he showed up to this affair, that he would be obliged to invite Hermione and Ron to his home afterword, which would also mean that there would be allowances with both of their children and half the Weasley clan. While Kreacher went about the house duties, grumbling in a way that Harry now found to be more charming than annoying; Harry stepped out and Apparated to Northern Scotland. His Aparation point always putting him at the Northern cliffs, a beautiful spot, that always put the bracing wind right in his face when he would first show. He turned his back on the stark wind and looked at the soft old cabin that was ramshackle and undisturbed. It did his heart good to see the old home, knowing that this was what the Muggles would see when they came across this house, but with a sweep of his hand he was able to see the castle for exactly what it was; large, prominently placed, old, and stately. With five towers, and over six levels, it was one of the largest castles in Scotland, and it had been bequeathed to him in the will and testament of Albus Dumbledore.

Originally when the Will had been read, he had declined to show up, knowing that this would be a visible acquiescence of him turning down the will and all that had been left to him. However this was to be for naught, as Snape had shown up at his door during the allotted time when the will was to have been being read, and dragged Harry out of the flat at Grimmauld and brought him to the reading. 

He had been ashamed later to admit to himself that it was a matter of grief, he hadn’t want to dwell on the death of Dumbledore, and hadn’t wanted to see the grief of the pain in Severus’ eyes when the will was being read, knowing that it would be harder for both of them than for anyone else. As it was, it was easy enough, and was also the last vestige of proof that the Wizarding World had needed to prove that Snape was indeed free of all reproach for killing the Elder wizened Wizard.

_“I hereby leave the last half of my will to the two men in my life that changed the world at the often, remarkable and shameful, requests that I made of them. First to the Man that I used in an abundance of ways, to include but not limited too, forcing him into a life long pursuit of forgiveness for an act that was fated to happen and had long since been forgiven by me and also the young man that the accident had fated to take his parents from. Severus Snape, you are the strongest of heart of any wizard or any man that I have ever had the blessing to know. To say you didn’t question my motives would be untruthful, but to have questioned them and then still found the will power within yourself to allow such manipulations, is one of the most honorable traits that you could have. To Severus Snape, with much grumbling from the man, I am sure; I bequeath all of my monetary funds and the rights to my Gringots vault. Not limited too but in accordance with, all the laws that pertain to the acceptance and gifting all funds and gifts that are there-in. With this I also bequeath the entirety of all of my libraries, from my personal ones at Hogwarts, to all three that are within the three different homes that I have scattered throughout Scotland, Leads, and France. And lastly, I bequeath the rights and ownership to the home in cliffs of Scotland, to be his on the only contingent that I leave in this will for him; that he remain an active wizard in the community and not allow the prejudices that he places on himself to separate him from the society that he sacrificed to much to save. And as a last aside, a personal note…”_

Harry remembered the utter chagrin on the face of his Professor when a note had been taken out of the will and set aside, but when he had reached for it the attorney reading the will had placed the note within the vault behind him and had informed him that the letter was not available to be read yet, as the will dictated that it was not the time in which for the letter to be opened. And to open the letter would, _“…cause more harm than good to the life and livelihood of a one Severus Snape with all the charm and pomp that I, Albus Dumbledore, could imbue in a single scrap of parchment.”_

Harry shook his head and smiled, letting out a soft giggle when he let himself into the castle. He remembered Snape looking at him with a half smile half grimace and had given Harry the castle on the grounds that Snape hadn’t wanted to deal with a monstrosity, and instead had allowed Harry to give him the rights to the small home in the French Alps. 

He was proud of the things that he had privately accomplished within the walls of the ‘monstrosity’, accomplishments in magic and in learning. Things that he had unfortunately been unable or willfully unwilling to learn when he was in Hogwarts, he found at later parts in his life, he wanted to learn; and forcefully teaching himself to be better at magic, to achieve greater feats, was more than likely better suited to a private, unplottable, castle more than 200 miles from the nearest town. He thought the abode rather suited him, quiet, but overwhelming. When he had taken on the rights for the place, he had decided to make it his, wholly and completely. Starting from the bottom up, he made it entirely to his desires, which he found as the process had continued for several years, were as wide as they were varied. There was a potions lab, very nicely kept with a wall of windows that looked out onto the stormy seas, a beautiful dueling room, that was also a ball room, the bank of windows taking two entire walls, and the height of the room being almost three stories making the entire structure wonderful for capturing the essence of the magic that he flung around it for hours on end. Then there was the kitchens, two of them, but the main one being his coup de grah, he had worked tirelessly to make it into a comfortable place, adding a wine cellar entrance, that went into the dungeons from the pantry, and the pantry being large enough that he would never worry about food. (Something that he always would only admit to himself, he was fearful of happening to him.) He had hand carved wood tables, thick carpets, old furniture in parts of the house and modern in parts, and he had been so happy to blend it in such a way that it worked. 

But today, well today he was in search of his closet. He didn’t like to admit, was rather uncomfortable with the knowledge, but after he graduated and had been able to spend time searching for slacks, and pants, and shirts, and shoes that actually fit; he had come to the rather uncomfortable realization that he enjoyed dressing well and choosing his things to wear that made him look mature and put together. 

He smiled as he waved his wand in front of a rather large canvas in his room. The beautiful painting being one of the most expensive things he owned, but by far being his favorite. It softly faded, the flickering of the paint glistening in the light from the windows and the receded chandelier, before it faded altogether. And his closet appeared. At two stories, with a staircase, it was embarrassingly opulent, and he loved it. Organized within an inch of its life, he knew exactly where to go for what he was looking for. He had been thinking about what he would want to wear to the wedding and had decided to rather go against the tradition and wear something muggle. Something nice, yes, but something muggle none-the-less. He found the obsidian suit hanging in the corner of his closet, and took a moment to caress the soft silk and velvet texture, turning the coat collar down with a small smile and seeing the silver silk lining that he was hoping for. He walked throughout the closet picking pieces for the outfit, a deep emerald button up with gold piping, and a dark pair of dress shoes that had sliver soles and gold embroidered decals. It was a decidedly inspired looked, reminiscent of the 20 era suits and style. 

He was shocked to discover that he was as excited about this wedding as he usually was about his time alone, and started to wonder if it was truly time for him to step back into the spot light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry that this took so long to get up! I have been on vacation with my husband who just came back from deployment, and was deliciously pre-occupied. That being said, I am currently working on the next chapter, and as we are back to the real world, there should be more reliable updates. Please bare with me, this may well be a long story, but our boys will be meeting soon, and things will be happening to hurry up some parts. 
> 
> The painting that is in Harry's room, and the painting that is my favorite of all time is:  
> "Mountain Landscape with an Approaching Storm by Claude-Joseph Vernet" (It is currently housed in The Dallas Museum of Art in Dallas Texas.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am so sorry!! I had thought I had put this up almost a week ago, and was so sad that no one had commented or anything on it!! But I guess I just didn't?
> 
> Summary:  
> Our boys have their first meeting. 
> 
> ((Comments and Kudos are Appreciated!!))
> 
> The second half of this chapter or Chapter 6, will be up as soon as I work out some minor construct issues. 
> 
> Blessings.

CHAPTER 5

Severus wrapped his waist with the thick, soft silver cumberbund. He had decided on a emerald green muggle suit with touches of silver at the waist and feet, with his hair tied back at the nape with a golden strand. He took his time wrapping the material around his middle, relaxing enough to get the right fit, and then finished up buttoning his shirt. He had decided to go for a formal but thin tie in the Slytherin black and silver, and then turned around and fetched his coat. He walked over to the mirror, taking a moment to take in the picture he made. 

Never being one for personal confidence in looks, Severus knew that he would meet the standards set by the rules of society, as well as look good enough to be mildly pleasing to the eye. He took his cloak off the hook, and placed it on his shoulders, breathing a mental sigh of relief at the coverage the dark fabric gave him. 

He set out, taking a moment to look at the pocket watch, relaxing that he was still on time. He took the floo powder off the mantel and stroked the bag three times, letting his mind wonder to the amount of people he was going to be bound to mingle with this evening, reminding himself that he only had to stay through the ceremony and through the salutes and then he would be free to go home. 

“Devonshire.” He said clearly as he threw the floo powder into the pit and stepped through.

_*~*_

Harry had been pleasantly surprised at how his afternoon had gone. He had expected to be hounded by Hermione and Ginny, with constant letters and fire calls to remind of the time and place of the wedding. But with only one fire call this morning, and that from Ron to ask for a tie, it had turned out to be a pleasant and productive day instead. 

He had been in the laboratory all morning, working on his project. He sighed thinking back on it, taking his time to tie his ascot around his throat. The project was working but really only up until a point, and the issue wasn’t with the theory of the magic, but more with the actual need for more than his own to make the process work. 

He’d been working on it for almost a year now, slowly doing different parts of it, and testing it out in the ‘real world’ before coming back and revising, but he had finally come to the conclusion that he needed a partner to finish it. The only problem is that the only two people that he had thought of, were both impossible solutions. 

Hermione was brilliant, and would be able to work out the solution and how to fix it within a short amount of time, however he wasn’t sure that she was a powerful enough witch to get the job done. 

And the other person, and to be honest the best fit for the task was completely unobtainable. Snape was long since out of reach, and though he would have the intelligence and the acumen as well as the strength and the magic, there was no way that Harry could show up after all this time and request such a favor from the man. Which would be the second issue, the first being that he wasn’t entirely sure where the man resided. 

He flicked his hand in the air and softly grabbed for the coat that came his way, putting it on, and stepping back from the mirror. He dusted his hands softly over the material soothing out small creases and took stock of his appearance. He was a picture, of that he was sure. And though he could feel his nerves fraying a bit at the ends, his face held the cool collection that he had trained himself to appear. 

He took the stairs two at a time, grabbing the floo powder on the foyer table on the way to the kitchen. He grabbed his gift for the couple; more proud of it than he’d had any right to be, and walked over to the fireplace. 

“Three hours, maybe four at most, Harry. Then we can be back to the calm.” He took two breaths cleared his mind and said, “Devonshire.” 

_*~*_

The contrast to the cold loneliness of Severus’ home to the warm and bright joy of the wedding and accompaniment set him a bit in a panic. He couldn’t help the sighs that continued to flow freely from his mouth, he hadn’t even seen the honored guests, and he’d been at the Happy Hour for more than 45 minutes and he could feel the buzz more than he would have liked to admit. Thinking of such, he should… he put the tumbler of malt scotch down on the nearest table. 

He scanned the room and allowed for some faces to be recognized, while also noticing far more than he did not. His self inflicted solitude of work and the very few he trusted, over the past several years had moved in one direction it seemed, as the rest of the Wizarding world went in another. His eyes scanned the windows of the crowded anti-room, the space being more than one hundred fifty meters long and around thirty meters wide, leaving an air of space even as more and more people kept sweeping through the massive French doors at the opposite end. 

He wasn’t one to overtly recognize the interiors of buildings, that wasn’t in his average daily demeanor, but he did take note of the soft elegance of the lighting and décor. It offered the guests a chance to be in a note of class unlike what they would have in their daily lives, and that was something that Severus wondered was the point. His eyes scanned the art on the walls, each with small gilded plaques next to them, explaining when they came into the possession of the Malfoys, and to whom they were on loan too, his gaze shifting to a beautifully, no, masterfully created beach scene. He read the plaque next to the painting, and found himself smiling, 

“I’ve been looking for this painting for almost 3 years now. Should have known that the illusive sibling painting to my masterpiece at home, would belong to the Malfoys.” 

Severus’ breath hitched. He allowed his heart to even out, wishing that he hadn’t placed his glass of scotch down, so that he would have something with which to sip, something to wet his suddenly dry mouth. He turned his head slowly, demanding that his face be blank, without any emotion. 

The boy that he expected wasn’t there, but in his place was a man. Standing at around five feet eleven, Severus found that he only had to look down a bit to see into the man’s Verdant eyes. He did a cursory look, quick, efficient, and private, taking in the tailors outfit, the crisp lines, the width of the shoulders, the tanness of the skin, the strong jaw line; and then spoke. 

“It’s a pleasure to see you, Potter.” His voice soft but strong, as he mentally abused himself. He had meant to carry on the conversation that Potter had opened up, but instead had let go a bit of his personal feeling. 

And he could tell instantly that it hadn’t gone unnoticed, as the tiniest of flushes crept up Potters neck and into his cheeks; a small smirk adorning his lips briefly before it was flittered away. 

“You as well, Snape.” He said, bowing his head slightly and closing his eyes, making the gesture seem both genuine and refined. 

Being both out of his element and in a small state of confusion, Severus was unable to coherently say much more than that, and relaxed when he felt his face hit upon his most used of expressions, a blank scowl. 

“Your scowls don’t intimidate me anymore, Sir. Been a long while since they have.” Potter said, a small smile heard in his tone. “But if you wish to be left alone, by all means…” he raised his glass along with his eyebrow, and nodded once more, turning to leave Severus alone to his thoughts. 

_~*~_

Harry hadn’t intended for there to be any opportunity to see many people, he had planned to Apparate directly to the wedding hall, walk in and go see the Groom, hoping to find solace in the privacy that would allow. But on his way to the private hall leading to the groom and bride, he was waylaid by most of the Weasley clan, which turned into a small affair all it’s own. 

He had been offered hugs, and kisses, been asked more questions than he could or wanted to answer, and when he started to feel the pressure overwhelm him, he almost burst into effervescent praise when Ron brought him a firewhiskey dry with a lemon. 

He had been allowed some peace, when Molly had to run to check on Ginny, and had walked and talked with Ron and Hermione about all that had been transpiring in the past two years since his absence. He hummed and ha’d at all the right places, setting aside information that he wanted to dissect later, and discarding the information that he didn’t need to know. 

When he noticed that Hermione was drinking a water instead of the proffered Champagne, he smiled and hugged her, looking into her eyes, and taking in her joy. 

“We haven’t told anyone yet. I’m only 2 months along, but we know that this one will be a boy. We are so excited, but are waiting until after the wedding, you know?” She said, gently placing her hand on her stomach, and looking up at Ron, who smiled adoringly back down at her. 

“We’ve decided to give him your name, Harry, as a middle name. If, you know, that’s alright with you.” He said, leaning against his wife and holding his hand on hers, above her stomach. 

“You’ve no need to ask. It would be my honor!” He said, taking his time to hug them both and step back. 

“Oh! I’ve got to go, Ginny just called for me!” Hermione skittered off, and left Harry looking a bit lost. 

“It’s some newfangled device that my dad found in the muggle world. It’s called a BLOORAYS, but instead of being a piece of plastic that they stick in their ear, Dad made it into a bracelet that sends words into their heads.” Ron explained, then changed the topic to Quidditch before he too had to run off to take care of something for Mr. Weasley.

He had scanned the room for a way to get to the private hallway without being waylaid by anymore people, when his eyes found the back of a familiar frame. He calmed his thundering heart and forced the screaming in his ears to abate before he walked over to the man. 

He took in the long hair, tied back meticulously in a colored band, looking soft and smooth not a whit of grease on it. The long, slender body with toned but slim legs, and a waif like build leaving the mind to wonder how lithe the body would be underneath all that material. 

He knew that more than likely his advances wouldn’t be welcomed, but he found it both a necessity and a desire to say hello. Harry saw the painting that had so transfixed the man, instantly recognizing it, and letting out a shuttered breathy laugh, of course the painting that had been considered long since destroyed by most of the muggle art world, would be owned by the Malfoys, and on prominent display here. 

He calmly took the last step and turned to see Snapes profile, smiling to himself at the strength and prominence of his nose, but also that the lines that had been littered all across the older man’s face a few long years before, were less; and that the lips seemed happier in a soft smile tilted upward, he found that he could see part of the dark depth of one of the eyes, and wished that he could gaze in them, and see if the man had found happiness that had once been so elusive to them both.

 

“I’ve been looking for this painting for almost 3 years now. Should have known that the illusive sibling painting to my masterpiece at home, would belong to the Malfoys.” He waited to see if Snape had heard him, and if he had, had he recognized his voice. And he wasn’t disappointed. He had seen the recognition dawn starkly on that generally blank or angry face, and was shocked that for a moment, a mere second he saw what could have been a soft ‘oh’ before the features were schooled into a blank stare once more and turned to him. 

He hadn’t expected the casual exploration of his body, but that was what he found raked over his body. And it took him a minute to assure himself that he wasn’t tingling because of the man staring at him, but more than he wasn’t used to the staring at all. Which didn’t help his beating heart calm at all. 

The compliment set his heart aflame again, and he fervently wished for the millionth time in his life, that he wasn’t to expressive, that he could school his features like Snape, so that he wouldn’t blush, or smile or heat up when appraised. But after the short exchange he found himself on the short end of a long blank stare, and noticed that he didn’t want to be looked at, quite like that, from Snape. He wanted something vastly different, a much more open and friendly look, not the look of bored insolence. 

“Your scowls don’t intimidate me anymore, Sir. Been a long while since they have.” He forced there to be a small smile in his voice, where there would have been hurt. “But if you wish to be left alone, by all means…” And he raised his glass, taking his leave before he made a fool of himself, in front of and too the man that he most admired and respected.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second chances are all fine and good. But dancing is even better.

Chapter 6

Harry finally took the initiative to just go to the private hallway leading to the guests of honor’s dressing rooms. He didn’t want to be around any more people, the few run ins that he had already had, were already starting to chafe, and he still had hours to go. He tapped on the door for Malfoy and was told to come in, smiling as he saw the elegant young man looking out the window with just the bare hint of insecurity. 

“Should I be offering you support or inspiration?” He asked, and more than a little surprised that Draco laughed. 

“Neither, Potter.” Draco turned and walked over to the liquor cabinet, “Drink?” he offered, refilling his champagne.

“Now that you mention it, yes.” Harry responded, lightly sitting down on the couch. He took in the opulence that surrounded him in the wealth of the room. It was rich tones, elegant furniture, a wide expanse of windows, and deep-set carpet. Draco handed him the glass of champagne, and sat down in the plush chair opposite Harry.

“I’ve never felt more at peace in my life.” Draco said, softly.

“But…” 

“Only you could pick up on the something else,” the blonde sighed, leaving a small amount of fog on the rim of the glass. “Luna came by yesterday,” he started, and then stopped; closing his eyes and holding a breath. Harry left him to figure out what he was getting at, never one to push anymore. People would say what they needed to say, when the time was right. 

“Ginnevra and I went through a bad patch about a year into our relationship. She had been tired of all the fighting between our families, and I was tired of fighting my family, and we just stopped seeing each other as something to fight for.” He twirled his glass in his fingers. “We took about 6 weeks away from each other, that was when I had started the international arm of my firm. It was a good thing to do to take my mind of why everything hurt so much. She, Ginnevra, moved out to Rome for a time, working on her curse breaking.” 

The blond placed his glass on the table in between them, and leaned back, folding his hands and staring at them as if they held all the answers. “I got restless, and I couldn’t talk to her, didn’t know how. So I looked for someone to be with, to talk things out with, and to just share space with. I had thought of you, funny now, I think I just wasn’t ready to hash things out yet with you. And suddenly Luna was there, just one night, she showed up at my doorstep in Athens and said something about knowing I needed to talk.” He laughed a bit, harsh but also forgiving in the sound. 

“I had asked her how she knew, and she spit some ridiculous nonsense about just knowing because of the Whimper Wallows. But either way, I was in a mood, and let her in. We spoke of everything that night, so much that I hadn’t allowed myself to think of, to speak of, let alone even accept. There were parts of me that I laid bare that night, that I had never been comfortable talking about with anyone.”

“She has that ability.” Harry said softly, smiling into his glass.

“That she does. And suddenly we were all over each other, taking clothing off, the fire in the fireplace roared, and it was the middle of summer. The windows fogged, and we just fell into one another. It was such a mad experience, looking back on it. But it wasn’t wrong either. By the time the next morning rolled around, she was gone, with a simple note written on a soft green piece of paper by the bed, ‘You’ll always find your way back to the path you belong.’” 

He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “The next day I was traveling to Rome to be with Gin and figure everything out because I knew, with all the sudden clarity of glass, that I needed to be with her. I told Ginnevra, everything. And she was so forgiving, just accepting of what had happened. She hadn’t been the most faithful in Rome either.” He said with a hint of snide remorse. 

“And we started over together, getting engaged less than a few months later. But last night, out of the blue, Luna shows up at the house. We let her in, and she had this beautiful little girl with her, so stunning, large blue eyes, and this fair blonde hair, and skin so pale that Gin and I just knew. Luna was so simple about the whole thing, just that she would always love our daughter, and never wanted anything of harm to come to anyone, but that she figured it was time for every one to know, before the big day. Potter… Harry, I have a nearly three-year-old daughter, who is beautiful and I can’t be bothered to be upset. Gin just beamed, she cried yes, but beamed, her and Luna took some time to talk about things, things I wasn’t ‘in need to hear’. And then it was all good.” He looked up, staring into Harry’s eyes. “I have a daughter. And I already care for her. I just have all these feelings inside of me, and they are so new and big. How do you deal with all of it?” He asked, leaning back in the chair, and closing his eyes.

Harry took a few moments to absorb all the information, that Draco had a child with Luna, and that Luna was a mother at all, were both things that were hard for him to grasp. However he made a note to keep an eye on Luna and the child, make sure that she was all right, and would continue to be so. 

“I just accept what I feel, as the right thing to feel.” Harry said, leaning forward to put his flute on the table and standing up to walk over to the window. “You always have fought what you feel Draco, I don’t think you’ve ever been told that feeling, that emotions, aren’t bad. But you’ve got to get used to them. Because you are perfectly normal to be feeling so much right now.” Harry smiled at the sound of a soft sigh escaping his friends’ lips. “But right now, you’ve also got to be in the moment. Be here. You are about to get married to the most loving and caring woman that either of us have had the honor of loving. And you have to be here in all ways for that.” Harry turned around and walked over to the chair that is once enemy, now friend, was sitting in. Placing a hand on the mans shoulder, “Ginny has always been so forgiving, it’s her nature. Just like Luna has always been giving, it’s her nature. Your nature, Draco, is that you are a natural father.” Harry smiled to himself when he heard the blonde scoff. “You are. You may well not have had the best fatherly figure in your life, but your inherent nature is that of a leader, that of a family man, that of a responsible man of power. Don’t allow yourself to be separated from what you feel because you’ve been taught that your feelings are a sign of weakness. But instead, allow your feelings to make you into something stronger, something wiser, something all together different and better than that from which you came.”

Harry let go of the mans’ shoulder and walked around the chair, until he was facing Draco. “Now, let’s get you to the alter, so that you can start the next step in this beautiful journey that your life is about to start.”

___~*~___

Severus had been offered a seat of prominence, at the front row of the grand room. He was seated with the family, something that he was both pleased and disturbed over. He allowed the feeling of chagrin to come over him in waves, but was more in thought over the meeting with the young and stronger wizard that had set him in a bit of a mood.

He hadn’t expected, nor had he intended for the first meeting to have with Potter to be so cold. In fact over the many times in his head that he had gone over it, he had always offered a meeting of tea or dinner. Not once had he considered that it would be his doing that the meeting would be more harsh than warm. But neither was he shocked. It was like him, completely and totally to shove others away rather than truly reach out. He’d been doing it most of his adult life, and to change his ways now, it seemed would be harder than he had ever really thought.

He scanned the room, noting that Potter was still not in the area of the Weasley family, which was where he was to be seated, naturally. Severus on the side of Draco’s illustrious family. It was easy to see in this situation that this was yet another tie that was connecting them, yet something else that was affirming that they would be in each others lives, whether intentionally or not. However, he was still at a loss of how to start over, of how to reach out and relay that he did in fact want a friendly relationship with the younger wizard.

The doors to the hall opened and the whole room quieted down. The hush so complete that it caused Severus to be concerned that they may be under attack. But yet, Draco walked in, with Potter walking directly behind. They walked to the front of the room, and up to the alter, where Potter shook Dracos hand and then stood behind him in the honorable position of best man. Severus didn’t allow the warmth to distract him from the over all ceremony, but it was a pleasant surprise to know that his godson was so close with Potter. It did his heart well, to realize that he hadn’t shut himself away that much in the past years. And he could all but see that he was glowing with pride at Draco during the whole ceremony.

When the music started, Severus stood and turned with the whole of the room, to take in the glory of the bride, and to his chagrin he was pleasantly awed. She was wondrously wrapped in fine silks and lace, the dress fitting her in such a way as to show off her form without giving away her secrets. Her train had been magicked to be lifted off the ground a few inches allowing for flowers to be dropped in her wake. Her smile could have lit up buildings and it was more obvious than Severus had ever seen personally in his life that she was in love and so happy with it. He would never admit it, but to see something like this, a Weasley and a Malfoy getting married after such upheaval, was such a powerful statement to all that had been a part of the evil before the war. That they were going to move on and they were going to be strong. 

___~^~___

The reception was wonderful, Harry couldn’t have asked for a more fun environment and was hard-pressed to actually want to leave. He stood by the edge of the table, and accepted many conversations, turning down many witches who wanted to dance, and only dancing with some men. He had been pulled to the dance floor on many occasions despite his best efforts, by the Weasley boys and Hermione and Luna, but not once did he grace the floor with a slow dance, always feeling that those were more for the coupled off people. He had tried to keep a trained eye on Snape, but had long since lost him in the body of people crammed within the massive hall. 

The couple of honor came out to dance most of the night, and surprisingly he was entertained with the rest of the audience, when they broke into a practiced and perfected waltz. Perfectly timed and wonderfully on pointe, his clapping of hands was drowned out by the rest of the room and when the next song was said to be a waltz, the musicians gave the audience time to pair up. 

“Do you wish to accompany me, to the floor?” 

Harry slowing turned his head, smiling with the pleasant buzz of champagne throughout his blood, and looked into the obsidian eyes of his once Professor. He allowed his body the small, delicious shiver that rolled through him, to show in his face when the voice question had been uttered so close to his ear. 

“Y-Yes.” He mentally kicked himself, for the stutter. So much for seeming the adult that he was. 

Snape reached out his hand palm up, waiting for the younger wizard to place his hand within. Harry set down his flute, and turned full body, putting his hand within the warm grasp of Snapes. Harry’s thoughts were a jumble, but the moment the fingers interlaced with his, his mind cleared rather beautifully and all he could focus on was Snape. His scent, his skin, his clothing, his barely-there smile, Harry had never seen something so foreign and beautiful on the Professor’s face. 

He allowed himself to be pulled onto the dance floor, never taking his eyes off of Snape, never allowing himself to take in any other patrons on the dance floor, making sure that his eyes were for only his partner. He couldn’t have said when the music started, couldn’t have told you which song was playing, or just how fast the tempo was; but he could tell anyone how tightly Snape had held onto his hand. He would be able to tell how his palm fit so snugly within the other wizards palm. He could talk for hours on the particular scent that was Snape, the musky smell of old oak and something particularly astringent but by no means harsh or bothersome. He could explain in perfect detail how each small hair came out of the tie, and curled softly around his face, not a whit of grease to be seen. But the most important thing, the one piece of information that he would only ever go over with himself, was how his magic felt so clean with Snapes, how his power hummed throughout his body, there wasn’t a way that Snape couldn’t feel it, humming steadily throughout his bones, his muscles, his blood. He felt as is he was glowing with it. 

*!*!*!*!*!*!*

Severus was unduly disturbed by how many times Draco had come over and talked to him, making his escape more and more difficult to obtain. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but every time he turned his body toward the door, Draco had been there with another of the bloody Ministry, to talk about some small matter or other. It had been patently clear what the young wizard was trying to accomplish, and it wasn’t going to work. He wasn’t going to go to any Ministry function and he wasn’t going to work with the Ministry on any new laws that were currently being changed since the end of the War. His time with the Ministry and all the politics was long over, and he wasn’t going to be a part of it any longer. 

The last person that had been unfortunate enough to come over with Draco, had just left with the young blonde, and Severus heaved a sigh of relief. He had been working on his escape for almost two hours now, moving closer and closer to the doors. He moved his eyes to scan the floor, taking in the moving of the bodies on the floor, dancing, laughing, and enjoying themselves. His eyes landed on Potter several times, but this time was different. He had just come off the floor with a particularly sexual dance with a wizard, a Weasley if the ginger hair was any indication. 

Severus thought back, but was unable to pin point any particularly good insight on whether the boy was heterosexual or other. He had been with the Weasley chit, for a couple years, but Severus wasn’t privy to the life of Potter since the war ended. He took in the fact that the young wizard had shed his coat a few hours earlier, and his fit form was being lovingly stroked by the silk shirt, his tones fore arms showing with the sleeves that were rolled up a bit. A small glistening on his forehead, and a smile gracing his lips almost never leaving. 

Draco and Ginnevra came onto the dance floor, and started to dance a waltz, and despite his best efforts Severus was enthralled with the rest of the room. He watched them move in the practiced way of lovers and dancers, their bodies becoming more fluid, their bodies becoming almost one. Severus scanned the crowd, noticing some of them queuing up to be with each other for the next waltz; and noticing that Potter had just turned down yet another wizard and witch, his hand holding a champagne flute up to his face, his eyes not quite smiling with the rest of his face. 

Severus didn’t really mean to walk over to the lad, he had just been wondering about the authenticity of the no’s that Potter was giving out. But a small part of him wondered if there would be another chance for him to talk to the boy, to have a conversation with him. 

 

Severus walked up to the back of Potters table, and stopped, willing his heart to stop the stampeding staccato. He could all but smell the light musk coming from the younger wizard. See the soft glistening skin that had tapered the hair at his neck. Took in the picture he made with a tapping foot on the ground and a tapping foot on wood. 

“Do you wish to accompany me, to the floor?” 

Severus wasn’t prepared for the slow body turn, and the shining water glazed verdurous eyes. The skin glistened all over his body, but it wasn’t unbecoming. Severus’ breath caught when he watched a small shiver go up and through the whole of the man’s body. He had always known that his voice was his best attribute, something that he had tried on many an occasion to use to his advantage, but to see it effect Potter so, was more that Severus could fathom. 

“Y-Yes.” Came the small stuttering off the lips of Potter, and that unabashed red glow that tainted his cheeks was more becoming than it had any right to be. He reached out and let the small shiver run through his body at the contact between his hand and Potters. It was a glorious feeling. 

They started up their dance, the waltz being one of the most romantic and sexual proper dances that there was. Severus was well versed in the ways of both leading and being led, but could tell through body language, that Potter wanted to be led. The heat coming off of Potter could have kept families warm in the war, could have melted the metal of a gate, could have kept him warm even on the coldest of nights. He wasn’t a fool, he knew that the heat could be mostly attributed to the alcohol content that the man had probably imbibed this evening, but it didn’t stop him from taking a deep breath to all but taste the heat rolling off the young body.

“I’ve decided that I have let you down once again.” Severus said, in one of the small lulls between the sets. He didn’t look at the face of the man dancing with him, didn’t want to see the truth of the statement. 

“You haven’t, sir.” Came the voice, so strong and so soft all at once. “But I’ve a feeling that I wont ever live up to some standard that you’ve got of me.” 

Severus took this in, and was shocked at the partial truth. He had a rather high standard for Potter, but the boy was living up to it, for all that he knew. “You’ve not disappointed me for a day since we last laid eyes upon one another.”

“That sounds nice.” Said Potter, before he squeezed Severus’ hand. He smiled down at the younger but so much more mature face, and squeezed it back. The dance continued for a while longer, and when the last note filled the air, left lingering with a soft echo, Severus looked down into the face of Potter. He didn’t know how to reach out, was unable to ask for the dinner that he had trained for in his fantasies. 

He let go of the man and they both smiled at one another, the awkwardness of their prior relationship seeping in between them, slowing building up walls that they had placed their individually of one another long ago.

“It was a pleasure, Sir.” Said Potter before he finally turned and made his way to the side of the room. Severus just stood there, in the middle of the dance floor, wondering for all the life of him, why he could never say what he wanted, and always said the things he never meant. 

*~_~*

Harry brushed past several patrons until he reached the valet who had collected his coat. He paid the two galleons and received his cloak. He twirled the fabric around his body and accepted that it was his figurative shield. He walked out of the massive French doors and took a moment for a breath of air. He had come so close. So close to saying all those things that he had never wanted to say, never thought about but in the dark recesses of the night. He had never wanted to ruin the small but brighter image in the eyes of the man that he held in such high esteem. He had almost asked for dinner! How atrocious would that have been? To have asked this man, who had been so glad to be rid of Harry after the ministry trials, that he had said good bye before Harry had even gotten the nerve to ask for a dinner. 

He walked to the end of the drive, allowed that he had spent as much time as he had been obligated too, and Apparated home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so much longer than I intended. I hope that you enjoy it, and fear not. Our boys will be seeing one another perfectly soon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our men have some things to discuss... really a big chapter that leads to the rest of the story.

CHAPTER 7

 

Draco hadn’t seen Harry leave, but had noticed the marked decline in Severus’ attitude for the remainder of the time the Wizard had been at the reception. He had reclined back in his chair and glanced over at Ginnevra, the small grimace on her face, the indication that she had witnessed Harry’s departure. 

“What do you make of it, darling?” He asked, gliding his fingers over the back of her hand on the table.

“I could never understand why those two didn’t like each other well enough.” She sighed and leaned back into her chair, turning her hand up and twining their fingers. “School has long since been through and they are well suited. The very minimum they should at least be more cordial. It’s as if there is some major purpose for those two to not enjoy one another company.” Gin turned her head and looked at Draco. “They’d be brilliant friends, so much… angst built up in the both of them.” 

“Well we’ve done what we can, Love. Let the rest work itself out.” But Draco let a thought formulate in his mind. Let it set about, and would come back to it later. For he also believed that if two people were more suited than he and Ginnevra it was Harry and Severus.

*``-``-``-``-``*

Harry hadn’t slept for almost a week. His nights were spent in the lab, trying to work out the parts of the spell and the weight of the magic and formula since he figured that he wouldn’t be able to use Snape, and Hermione was even less of a choice, being pregnant.

He could feel his heart beating harder, the tea starting tasting more and more like pure caffeine, he’d even started playing around with drinking more coffee in the mornings and in the evenings, and knew that he was doomed to passing out eventually when his hands started shaking and he couldn’t hold the rose wood petals without dropping them on the floor, six times.

“Just take a break, just take a bloody break.” He mumbled to himself and stepped back from the wall of cauldrons. Putting a large stasis charm over the lot of them. Taking a breath and making sure to clean his body with a charm and sanitizing everything before he left the room, he took a step out. 

He went up to his bathroom and started the taps at the bath. He was long overdue for a bath, come to think about it, it had at least been a week since his last shower. He spelled several bottles of different oils and soaps to mix freely into the water and undressed. He monitored his breathing. Slowly in, and slowly out. Taking each piece of clothing off. He stood in front of the long mirror and took in his frame. He had been so needy the last week. Every chance he’d had to sit down he’d thought of the heat between Snape and him during that dance, but at the same point the shame and indignity would well up. He knew without a reasonable doubt that Snape didn’t want to date with him, let alone even spend time in his presence. It had been rather stunning to be asked by the man to dance, but for the fact that it was a sexual dance, it had been rather staid.

He dragged his hands down his torso, allowing that he wasn’t always on the run and missing meals, he had finally filled out a bit. But he was still rather busy, and his muscles had formed rather nicely when he’d finally had the ability to put on some weight. He was well shaped, it wasn’t over confidence, but just simply a confidence in what he knew he found attractive. With his long torso muscles and their defined divets on his pelvis bones, providing for that V that men found so delicious to lick. 

A small whimper escaped his lips, he hadn’t been with a man in so long, hadn’t been touched by someone, hadn’t been devoured. His hands roamed lower cupping the soft sac of his bollocks and a small feral growl emitted from his throat. He needed to feel someone deep inside him, rolling their shaft along that soft button of tissue that caused him to see stars. He needed to be touched, needed to feel teeth and lips and tongue on his fevered skin. 

A shrill alarm filled the air causing Harry to ground out a frustrated yell. He snapped his fingers at the faucets and the water stopped, all the bottles that had been littering themselves into the water, softly placed back on the counters in their proper spots. He waved his hands and found a loose fitting pair of athletic shorts hanging on his waist and resigned himself to showing up at the castle door with nothing but the shorts on. Whoever was there, would be damned and back. 

He apparated down to the front foyer and searched for the magical presence of the person on the other side of the door, but he knew that it could only be one of a very small number of people, as only a few even know about the presence of the castle at all. He flung his hand in the air and the doors opened wide, and to Harry’s chagrin he was overtly shocked at Severus Snape standing on the wide expanse of stone and wood that was the front decking of the castle. 

“Hello?” Harry said, his previous frustration coming to the forefront as well as his embarrassment at being poorly dressed shuffling up to the front as well. He flicked his hand and a soft jersey shirt appeared on his body as well. 

“Uh, come in!” He said, stumbling over proper protocol when the person you were fantasizing about interrupts your fantasy and shows up unexpected. He turned back and let in the dark haired man. Taking time to count his breaths, calm down his racing heart, and clear his mind.   
“To what do I owe the honor?” Harry cringed inwardly at his overt trying to be suave and falling well low of the bar he was aiming for. 

“Well,” Snape started and then stopped. Harry hid a small smile at the small look of consternation that flitted across the other mans face. 

“How about a drink?” Harry offered, turning toward the dining area and entering his kitchen. He was pleased when he heard the intake of breath at the sight of the kitchen; after all it was one of his prize pleasures. “Please feel free to sit down over by the windows, I’ll be right back up.” He said, as the door to the wine cellar opened and he walked forward but stopped. “Unless, well- do you wish to see the cellar? I do believe I remember your fond preference for wines.” 

“Yes, I do believe I would like to see the cellar.” Snape said, returning the look but not saying any more. 

“Then please by all means follow me. But watch your step.” Harry mentioned while putting his hand out and taking the other mans in his. He stepped into the completely round chamber, and the door softly shut behind them, ensconcing them in soft light. 

“This isn’t much, Harry.” Snape muttered, taking in the walls of wine that were on four of the five sides. 

“Patience, sir.” Harry said, giggling a bit. And whispered a word in parseltongue, marveling at the look of Snape when the room started to spin just a bit and the walls expanded. He always smiled when he came into his cellar, a creation purely all his own. He had designed the spell and the construction of the room, and had taken use of old Egyptian elements for the moving of the walls and the over all privacy of what people got to see if he wasn’t in the same cellar as them. The last part of the over all movement was that the floor they were standing on seamlessly floated down, landing on the ground level below them and clicking into place, setting off a set of lights that hung from the ceiling that had magicked above them. 

“Harry, this is… massive.” Snape said, slowly spinning and taking in all of the contents of the room. 

“Well I am showing off a fair bit, as no one has yet to see the cellar but me. Generally I just walk to the cellar door and state the taste, texture, year, or name of the wine or other spirit and it will appear in the cubby. 

“Well, you’ve always been one to show off a fair bit.” Snape said half heartedly, smiling when Harry didn’t get riled up as he would have when he was younger. “The parseltongue was a nice touch.” He added as he walked to the nearest shelf. 

“Well, if it’s going to be something that I carry with me for the rest of my life, I may as well make use of it.” He followed Snape and reached up towards the top of the shelf, levitating a bottle of 2009 Pinot Noir. 

Do you wish to still browse, and start explaining what’s brought you to my door of all places? Or would you rather start the conversation over a drink?” Harry picked up a strong scotch aged 75 years, as well. 

“Let’s head back up.” Snape said, turning on his foot, the effect still ringing true of the robes that he would have been wearing years ago in the halls of Hogwarts. 

“Alright, sure.” 

They went back up the tunnel and ended up in the kitchen. Harry walked forward and muttered some words about grapes and cheese, and they appeared at the table where the wine glasses now sat waiting to be filled with the aged liquid. 

~****~****~****~****~

Severus sat there, it was much more to take in than he had originally anticipated. There had been so much more to take in than he had thought, the home was far more grand and yet as much tasteful as he had originally thought would be the case, as well as Potter was more advanced in his magic than he had been in the entire time that Severus had known the boy. There had been three instances in the last few minutes alone that the young man had used silent magic or wandless, and he was trying to figure out the overwhelming pride that was surrounding his heart, without showing anything on his face. But the actual hard to accept moment was seeing Potter shirtless for the first time. He had hated, truly despised, the hard thump of his heart against his chest, when Potter had opened the door. However, he had moved past that rather quickly, forcing himself to stay on task and remembering why he had decided to stop by. 

“Potter—“

“First off, you are in my home, and secondly formalities between us should have ended years ago. Please, call me Harry.” The younger man interrupted.

“As I don’t feel that I’ve even earned part of that right, it would feel wrong to take you up on that offer, Potter.” Snape said looking thoughtfully into his glass. “As I was saying,” he said, showing a soft form of idle hands with the twirling of the glass stem. “It’s been years since we’ve been truly in each others lives. But I’ve recently come across something that has shocked me and I must investigate it farther.” 

“Yes, yes… of course.” Potter said again, settling himself into his seat rather rakishly.   
He took a deep breath. “I was researching some potions advancements with my career in the states, something in particular has been alluding me for a while now. A part to a potion that could be a huge help for squibs,” he leaned back in his chair and took his glass with him, taking a sip before continuing. “I was doing some research in some of the more well known magazines, when I came across an article of the ‘Particalization of the Proteins in Formulations of Butterbur when crossed with Attleboro wood’, and something in that article was blindingly helpful, but I still had questions. So I took my questions to the editor of Potions Monthly, asking if I could please have the contact information with the author of the report. To my utter chagrin, the answer that I was given wasn’t even a no, but more that they didn’t know just who sent in the reports. That they’d been receiving them for years, under a pseudonym and had, ‘after thorough examination of the contents in each and every report; found accuracy and advanced methodology, decided to publish the findings when the inevitable reports appeared on editor Branford’s desk twice yearly.’” Snape stopped and looked at Harry, smiling inwardly that he could see the softest tinge of pink blushing over that alabaster and gold skin. 

“Imagine my utter frustration when I couldn’t have a conversation with the author of the report, simply because for all intents and purposes, the author was a recluse. So I went about my experiments, adapting some of the report with some of my work and still came up short. Far more short than I had ever really, and even with the help of the editorial. When I tried Butterbur in the complex form, the potion became more volatile, but when I added trace amounts of Attleboro wood, the Butterbur would all but dissolve into nothing more than a substance with no chemical attributes. How was it that this author had come up with some of the findings in his report and yet here I am, a Potions Master for almost 30 years and I’ve been fruitlessly unable to repeat the process, let alone add it to my potion for complex healing of magical ailments?” Snape laughed softly as he took another sip of his wine, chuckling when Potter picked up the scotch and took a healthy dose of it in his glass and swung it back.

“Right, so, uhm, what did you do?” Potter asked as he pushed his chair back and walked to the wide expanse of kitchen counter, rather shamelessly using it has a shield. 

“Well I made it my mission to find the author and have a healthy discussion with them on the topic of being available for questions. I first tried several of the more well known Potions Masters in the world, but on several accounts it just didn’t make since, as most of them would want the acclaim that these articles would provide. Then after that didn’t pan out, I decided to go back and read all of the articles from this author. There had been eight of them in total, and I was determined to get as much out of the editorials as possible to unmask the identity of the author.” He smiled as he finished off his glass and poured himself another. “So I went about the task of finding the piecing together information about the sod. Mind you, this was about four months ago when the last article had been published—“

“Six months…” Potter muttered and blushed furiously.

“Oh so you read the article as well, then?” Snape asked turning his full body within his chair to face the young wizard who was more crimson than cream. 

“You’ve obviously found your author, Professor.” Potter muttered and downed a bit more scotch. “How?” He asked, not turning his face up and looking directly at Snape. 

“Well, your name wasn’t even all that much of a hidden clue. ‘Fred Theodore Evans,’ really Potter the only hard part was figuring out that it was actually you and not the bushy haired witch you associate with.” He twirled the glass in his hands and smiled, “I was able to check her off the list at the wedding. She was completely intrigued with the article as well, but was clearly not the author and had no idea who would have been.”

“I, well…” Potter stammered, and to Severus it was precious and aggravating. 

“Where could you have learned so much about potions, Potter?” 

“Look, I… well…” the young man was clearly trying to figure out his words, so Severus was going to let him. 

“Well, you want to talk about where I could have learned about potions… when I think I should be answering how.” Potter said, and in a scene only remembered by Severus, from the younger mans school days; he watched Potter lift a hand to his scar and absentmindedly rub it. His features always so controlled when spotted in a crowd, bunched up and tightly held, and his other hand gripping the counter as if it was the only thing grounding him to the situation.

“By all means.” Severus said, completely enthralled with the struggle he was watching the other man have. 

Potter in a flash of movement threw both of his hands down in a fit of pique and for the first time since the conversation started, he looked Severus in the eye. “You should understand some things before we get into the who, where, and how of the potions I brew.” He twirled on his heel; in a fashion that made Severus want to chuckle but he held it in. “Follow me.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conversation starts...

CHAPTER 8

_The magic was strong, it was invariably the strongest magic to course through the wilds of Scotland, and it was mostly untapped. It wasn’t for lack of trying or lack of care, but mostly that there hadn’t been a strong enough wizard or witch to come along and tame what had here-to-fore been untamed. Harry had walked the grounds, lost himself in the nights, found himself in the days, and ultimately had given himself over to the utter beauty in the flow of magic that coursed through the trees, the streams, the rocks and living beings. He had bathed in the cold icy waters of River Naver, the icy flow, rushing through his skin cleaning him and his soul. He hadn’t wanted to be a part of the Wizarding Community that he had saved, so soon after war. It had been hard, harder than anything to stay as long as he had, but it was for reason, for purpose; if he hadn’t stepped up for Snape and Draco, than no one would have been there for them, and to Harry that would have been the biggest shame of all._

_He had slept underneath the stars, basking in their uncanny ability to light up the sky, even in the deepest parts of the night, and he had walked for endless hours in the sun, what little there had been in those weeks, until suddenly one day he felt the snap. The pure, unadulterated pressure of his magic balancing out with the world; he felt the glow, like a fire burning from within and without; the constant ebb and flow of life was in him and out of him. He knew, just as clearly as he had known anything in his life up until that moment, that he had done something frightfully new, and simply astonishing._

_He had turned on his heel, intending to walk to the clearing where all of his belongings had lain and return to London to start on his life, when in the midst of the turn he found himself in the Scottish Wildlands, aching in pain and wreathing in magic pulsing. It hadn’t been the first time that he had accidentally done magic, but it was the first time he’d done Time Magic, and it had been a long a scary road back to his time, from the year 403._

***~~~~~***

Harry walked up the stairs to his third level laboratory, and counted his breaths with his steps. He wasn’t accustomed to sharing any part of this home with anyone, and he was even less accustomed to Snape being the one to demand answers. He didn’t know what to expect, what to think would come from the mouth of the man that he had both despised and admired in equal measure for an equal amount of time in his life. He stopped at the front of the room, the broad oak doors demanding attention as they stood closed and locked, the incantation for their opening, written in his own mixture of Gaelic and Parseltongue.

“Doeugn… Ssspenshh… Dauegsshhpf…” He whispered, and let Snape watch as the carvings in the doors turned faintly white and green as they unwarded themselves. The faintest of snicks to let the wizard know that it was safe to enter. He turned to Snape, and took a deep breath.

“You are going to have questions. You will. There isn’t a way that you wont. But what I ask of you, Snape; is that you just observe first and then ask all the questions that you will. Alright?” He asked, making sure to connect his verdant green eyes with the smoke and inky blackness of the other man.

“You’ve my word, Potter. But do get on, the suspense is rather unnecessary.”

“Right…”

***~~~~***

Severus had been watching Potter intently from the moment he had agreed to follow the younger wizard up to his lab. He had noticed the small measures of breath, the intake and the measured level of outtake; also seeing the perfectly times steps to the breathing. It wasn’t as if Snape was unaccustomed to making people uncomfortable, but it had been his last desire to make this particular wizard so anxious; but he had questions and he demanded answers.

He lagged behind, looking at the artwork that adorned the walls, noticing that the young wizard had remarkable taste; with artists such as Alexander Naysmth and John Crawford Brown, Severus was inundated with painting after painting of the Scottish and Irish countryside. He was fascinated with the man that Potter had become; the bright shining example of what he had sacrificed so much for. It was a beautiful burst of pride in his chest that made him gruff when the younger wizard had hazarded a warning in front of the broad dark doors.

The incantation was in a language all it’s own, something that Severus was both intrigued and perturbed by; to make your own words, in your own ways, was something that few people had the talent for, and fewer wizards even tried. The door softly swung back on their hinges, brandishing open to a room that was much larger than he had anticipated. The grandiose high ceilings, and the bank of windows that took up one entire wall, was just the first things to catch his eye. The ceiling almost a complete mimic of the Great Hall in Hogwarts, the now night sky magicked into the banisters and candles floating in the between and the windows fully showcasing the entire coastline of the cliffs and ocean that was just on the other side of the grassy knoll, allowing memories of a much more simple time in his life to calm some of the confusion.

Severus breathed as he moved his gaze past all of this, to the room itself, and was attacked with the utter magnitude of the room he was in. There were seven cauldrons along one wall, spaced out at what looked to be about seven feet apart, with (he would hazard a guess), seven-inch platform that they were all on. He knew that sevens were a strong form of magic, and to have a room based on them alone was telling of how adept his young pupil had become in the fields of magic. He counted two pewter, two copper, one brass, one silver, and one earthenware cauldrons. He swept his gaze to the farthest end of the room, and was one again fighting for breath as he took in the remarkable stores that were shelved cleanly with seven shelves, they were spaced out into the room like a library would space out its books. He took note of the three large tables that were along the wall of windows, each one covered in debris that was reminiscent of his lab, and the shelf upon shelf of books that lined the rest of the room, more than he had in his lab, to be sure.

He didn’t look at Potter when he decided to walk farther into the room, just taking it upon himself to observe what was in the cauldrons.

“Don’t step up to the third cauldron just yet, the stasis is set just to me on that one. But the rest have their potions list floating just above and behind the platform that they are being brewed in.” Potter said, as he walked to the farther end of the room, apparently leaving Severus to wander until he had his fill.

He didn’t disappoint, he set out to see just what was being brewed, and the talent of the young wizard that was certainly blindsiding him with his wealth of knowledge that he was unaware the man had.

Dreamless Sleep.  
Variant 1-2.3

UNICORN HORN 2 GRAM (STIRRED FOR THREE)  
MUG WART LEAF 10 GRAM (RAISED UP AND THEN SETTLED)  
LAB CREATED OPIUM 1.1 GRAM (SPRINKLED EVENLY THROUGHOUT)  
LAVENDER ROOT 6 INCHES (DICED AND STIRRED WITH LAVENDER ROD)  
CHAMOMILLE PETALS 45 (MINCED AND BROUGHT TO BOIL STIRRED 7 TIMES)

SIMMER UNTIL SOFT PURPLE. THEN LET SETTLE FOR 1 DAY AND POUR INTO 21 VIALS. LET STRENGTHEN IN 7 DAYS.

CotWO

 

Oculus Repari  
Varient Stage 19.3-1

EYE OF NEWT 4 (MELTED THEN BROUGHT TO BOIL)  
EYE OF SHRIMP 2 (DRIED THEN CRUSHED, SPRINKLED THROUGHOUT.)  
EYE OF RAVEN 1 ( DEVEINED AND STIRRED INTO POTION AT 3 MIN. INTERVALS.)  
TOMATO LEAF AND ROOT ( LEAF: MINCE AND STIR 4 TIMES CLOCKWISE. ROOT STIR WITH OLIVE ROD FOR 30 MIN.)  
FELCHER HEARTSTRING (WARM TO 104 D. CEL. AND PLACE IN CENTER OF CAULDRON.)

TEMPER THEN POTION UNTIL BUBBLING CONSISTANTLY, TAKE OFF HEAT IMMEDIATELY LADLE INTO VIALS AND DISTRIBUTE WITH INST. TO ADMIN. W/I 3 DAYS.

 

Severus continued to go down the aisle of cauldrons, taking note of all the additions to his potions, and the subtractions. More interested in the process that brought Potter to these conclusion, than their final outcomes. When he reached the final potion he whipped his head around and locked on to the young wizards eyes.

“What is the meaning of this?” He demanded, waving his hand at the parchment that was hanging above the cauldron and catching it in his hand, waving it at Potter. “Salazar Aegis Kairos Potion.” He took his time walking from the platform down to the other man, rather proud of the calm look that he was being met with.

“I told you not to ask any questions until you’d looked at everything in the room… I will tell you everything, mores the better, I have always thought you’d be the first and only person to know everything, but observe first.” Potter said, in a calm but authoritative way, that Severus wished could set him off like it would have, only a few bit of years ago, but now only seemed to continue to intrigue him more.

“Indeed.” He muttered, and turned on his heel, the Potion Recipe still in his hand, the weight of what it could possibly mean adding a certain urgency that he was uncomfortable with.

He walked up and down the rows of books, both approving and disapproving of the titles, smirking when he saw that Potter had not one or two of his works, but all of them, under all his pseudonyms. He came out of the last shelf of books only to see Potter standing in the middle of the room, and small thin cane like object in the ball of his hand.

“There is more.” The young whelp said, before lifting the cane, and swinging it in an infinity swirl, he said something in an incantation but Severus didn’t catch it, all too soon his attention was brought to the wall that was behind the row of cauldrons. He had wondered idly why there would have been about 3 feet of space between the potions platforms and the wall, but had shrugged it off as a way to brew easier. But now before his eyes, he watched as the entirety of the wall, folded back on itself. Each 4 foot length of stone and wood beam, folding outward from the middle of the room, snapping together softly before disappearing into nothingness.  
“Potter…” Severus said, before snapping his own mouth shut. He had seen the object behind the wall before, many times, he was raised half muggle; but to see an entire bank of a room covered in them, was astonishing and confusing. “Potter, why do you, well…” he wasn’t sure what his first question was.

“Alright, so here comes all the answers. Let me walk you through the beginning.” Severus nodded his head once, taking his eyes off of the wall of televisions, computers and other electronic paraphernalia. This was clearly going to me more of an answer than he had come to the wizard to learn.

He couldn’t deny however, the tingle of awareness when his magic started to understand something before his mind had fully caught on. Potter was powerful, and Potter was something altogether different than any wizard he’d yet to meet or he would guess, had ever lived.

***~~~~***


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So so the story finally starts toward the end....

CHAPTER 9

 

Harry settled himself in his head, cleared his mind, and breathed out all the built up energy that was threatening to ruin his telling of the most important story he’d ever told. He turned to face Snape and took in the entirety of the elder wizards aura, the bold magic that was sweeping off of the other man, was intoxicating and he was doubtlessly attracted to it as well as the wizard that owned the magic, but for the moment that was neither here nor there. 

“In the summer that followed your release and re-instatement into the Wizarding world, I was despondent. There really isn’t another word for it, the lost and lonely feeling that one get’s when the only purpose for their life up until a certain point, has been completed. Voldemort had been defeated.” He sighed and took measured steps throughout the room, checking on the potions in each cauldron as he continued his story.

“When Voldemort had been defeated, it was easy to go on to the next thing, and the next, because Hogwarts needed to be rebuilt, people needed to be buried, and you and Draco needed to be saved. But after all that rush to complete the final gritty parts to a long and brutal war ended, I was caste adrift.” He tapped his fingers against the silver cauldron and whispered “ourabullo”, before continuing. “I had always thought that I would be able to converse with you about the war, after your trial. But then it didn’t happen. You were there, and then you weren’t. The worst part was realizing that Hermione and Ron, didn’t want to talk about the war, didn’t want to rehash all the horror and pain, and I couldn’t force that on them, why would I? Then there was Draco, but that relationship, was a long time coming, and through forces that weren’t entirely either of us.” Harry paused, and smiled into the void, allowing soft memories to come to him.

“So I left England, I didn’t want to be far though, there were too many things that were in upheaval still. The ministry was trying desperately to recruit me for the Ministry of Magic training position under Kingsley. They didn’t want to let the Wizarding World know though until I’d accepted, and when I hadn’t readily thrown myself into politics, I was given many a stern talking too about the intelligent way to live my life, and the other ways.” He chuckled, the sound both dark and intoxicating. “I think even then, even in that meeting with Kingsley and the council, the forces that would direct my life, where at work. Making it easy for me to be quiet and ‘understanding’ of their condescension. After all, I’d been a pawn for so long, it would have been stupid to not allow them to think I’d be playing into their hands, if only to escape the next day.” He paused in his recitation to stir the third pewter cauldron and then check the second bank of televisions. 

“Continue, please.” Snape said behind him, and Harry turned, seeing that the man had sat during his tale and had relieved himself of his clock and coat, leaving a soft cotton button up that was rolled to the forearm, and a pair of charcoal grey slacks that fit the man excellently. 

“Right,” He sat down, and leaned back into the overly stuffed cushions of a chair that was between the cauldrons and the tables where Snape sat, his feet out and legs splayed in front of him. “The next morning I just left. I didn’t have a place in mind, didn’t have any idea of when I would return or what would cause me to do so. I just left. I needed out. As much as I needed people to survive when the war was raging, I needed peace and the sense of aloneness when the war ended. And that’s how I found myself in the Wilds of Scotland.” He smiled, and caught Snapes eye. “There is a beautiful plot of land out there, miles wide, hidden from the eyes of muggles, and shielded from the eyes of greedy witches and wizards. It’s where the River Naver meets the hallowed grounds that start the Forbidden Forest. On the farthest side of the forest from Hogwarts. It’s population is zero, and the animals are all flamboyantly and beautifully imbued in magic, the water is pure and the land is clean.” He raked a hand through his hair, noticing the slight squint from his companion when his hair inevitably became more messy with the act. 

“I stayed in those woods, bathed in that water, took food from that earth. I practiced magic, felt the connections in my body and all the life that surrounded me. It’s funny, that looking back I wasn’t ever worried that people would find me, being starker’s in the middle of the plains and woods of Scotland, would have caused a big bang in the Prophet. But I felt protected. Sheltered. And for all intents and purposes I was. Then one day it happened.” He swung one leg over the knee of the other and leaned forward. “They say that most witches and wizards come to their own magic completeness around the age of 17. But that wasn’t the case for me. In fact, I didn’t get most of my magic inheritance until the night that Voldemort fell. That pain that ripped through me, when he died was as much me growing into wizardum, as it was killing the part of me that he had inhabited. However, when you go back and study the history of our ancestors, you find an alarming number of stories of our kind that didn’t come into full inheritance until their 21st or every their 49th birthdays. Depending on the strength of the magic that is coming to them.” He smiled up at Snape, “You still with me?”

“Indeed, I am. In the case that you are speaking about with the 49th birthday, there have been only three, Dark Witch Isabella in Italy in 792. Merlin in England in the unaccountable years and Dumbledore in 1892.” 

“Right! Good job!” Harry said, before blushing.

“Continue.” Snape said, his voice affecting a bored drawl, but his demeanor was one of intense concentration. 

“Right. So the night of the 3rd week that I was in the wilds, I felt my body snap. The pressure was intense. It took me almost 43 hours to regain any strength in my body. I dealt with wave after wave of magic overflow, the intensity only relatable to the night in the shack just after I had killed Voldemort and the first wave of my magic grew in me and it helped me heal you. But—“

“Hold.” Snape said, leaning forward in his seat and raising his hand to halt Harry in his speech. 

“Are you telling me, that you used your magical inheritance to heal me in the shack that night?” 

Harry sat back and observed Snape. He wasn’t sure if he was angry or perhaps something else. “Yes. Do you remember anything that happened in the shack that night when I came back for you?” 

*~*~*~*~*~*

Severus held is breath as if the physical act of him releasing the air from his lungs would render him weak. It was a question that had haunted him for years. He hadn’t known what had happened that night. It had been all a remarkable blur, resulting in him waking up 3 days later to copious amounts of Gryffindor platitudes, and Potter by his bedside. He had always wondered, had been vaguely aware of the amount of magic that it would have taken to heal him. 

He had been taking antivenin for almost a year when the retched serpent had attacked him, but he hadn’t accounted for the loss of blood, something that in his quiet times of reflection, he chastised himself for. Invariably chalking it up to being desperate, subconsciously, for release from all the holds of the world. He had never expected Harry to be there when he died, and having been able to relinquish his memories to the boy, he had allowed that it was his time to finally let go. The boy would do what he would do, and Severus’ hand in the pot was well and truly past his point of return. 

But it hadn’t ended, the boy had come back, he had straddled Severus’ in the most unbecoming of ways, and had rather inelegantly demanded that this man not wane into the void. But the memories of that night, always end right there. With Potters hands on his neck and heart, and a blinding light ending the fuzzy but firm thought in the elder mans’ minds-eye.

“Remarkable as it may seem to you, Potter; I remember little other than wanting to die and being told by an impertinent brat that I wasn’t going to be allowed the dignity of such an ending.” He said, the words far more harsh than that of his tone, which spoke of gratitude all these years later. 

Severus watched with growing unease at the other man’s quietude. However, enjoying the growth in attitude that brought the other wizard to a point in which he thought before he spoke. (He rather thought he’d later think why it slightly bothered him that Potter didn’t immediately start brandishing around insults.) 

“How about dinner, Sir?” He heard the other man say, though he could have been marginally mistaken. 

“You wish to dine with me, at well after 9 pm, on a weekday?” Severus knew when he was being obtuse, as he was never obtuse intentionally. 

“Well, if you are hungry, than by all means, yes. But I was rather thinking along the lines of this Friday.” Potter said, the smile not quite reaching his eyes, but his tone was light. 

Severus sat back, he still had far more questions than answers, at this point. Point in fact, he had more questions now than when he had entered the home. But he was hardly the man to be able to turn down an intrigue. And he was sure, more than anything, that Harry at the least, would be an intriguing story to unmask.

“I cannot do this Friday.” He said, and filed away the soft look of dejection that marred the younger mans’ face. “However, I could do Saturday.” 

He stamped down on the feeling of unease, when Potter shot his eyes up and looked at him with something akin to joy. He wasn’t entirely sure that it was joy, but it was an emotion, none-the-less, that hadn’t been aimed at him in far more years than he could recount. 

“Yes. That would be fine.” He watched as Potter got up and checked on all of the potions that were in brew. He was satisfied that the younger man could take care of these tasks, simply from watching his growth in the care of magical potion making in the mere last hour of this room. He was however still of a mind to force the topic of Salazars’ potion, and just how had this man come into possession of it, but be that as it may, he was a man of patience, if anything. 

He stood up and followed the younger man, taking into account all of the nuances of Potion making, and thought vaguely of offering his name up anonymously for a potion masters program, but rather thought he’d wait it out. As he was passing the third cauldron, and mindful of the wards around it, he glanced to make out the potion being brewed, and stopped in mid step. 

Wolfsbane Potion (S.S)

He was unable to make out the ingredients list, or the way in which they were brewed, but he had a fine feeling that it was his potion that was currently being brewed. He merely growled with the weight of more questions that begged to be let off his tongue. But time would tell him, just how Potter had come into rights of all of these recipes, and the other more nuanced knowledge of the other wizards life, for if Severus was truthful to anyone, it was himself, and he in truth could say that he was heavily mired in the need for more information on Potter. 

“Let me walk you out, Sir.” 

“Fine. Yes. Maybe you can tell me about some of the paintings on your walls?” He asked, as they closed the door to the laboratory. He would get his answers, and maybe, who knows, he would get something else.

After all, as anyone who knew him would know, he was nothing if not a little addicted to strength and power.


End file.
